


Did You Know

by JustAStoryInTheEnd



Category: Mr. Love: Queen’s Choice (Video Game)
Genre: F/M, Jealousy, a jealous CEO in BIG DENIAL., love a jealous CEO for us :))))
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-08
Updated: 2019-07-08
Packaged: 2020-06-24 13:06:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,580
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19724251
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JustAStoryInTheEnd/pseuds/JustAStoryInTheEnd
Summary: Sure, you had spent a majority of the night showering another with your attention.That, however, did not mean that Victor was jealous, no matter what his actions suggested.Really, jealousy?





	Did You Know

He saw the way their eyes followed you, possibly admiring the way the dress clung onto your figure; or perhaps how the pendant hanging against your sternum reflected the brightness in your eyes and in your smile. He heard them chatter, whispering words of your presence; or maybe of your beauty, to which he had silently described as ethereal the moment you exited your apartment building.

God, what was he thinking.

Inviting you--- no, ordering you to come to tonight’s event after a short protest was received from your end. He had only done so for your sake, thought of it as a way to build connections, and he was, after all, only looking out for his investment. But after seeing as to how you were then surrounded by people whose gazes were that of predators, he couldn’t help but feel a form of twist within. And the fact that you had already been approached by no less than five men in just the span of an hour upon arrival, Victor was forced to maintain a rather neutral stance as he remained beside you, listening to the stories of those who were obviously pouring out the effort to impress you.

A quick glance at you and Victor released a small sigh at how invested you were. Could you not tell that certain details were being exaggerated, and that there was absolutely no possible way that Mr. Morgan managed to fight a bear all on his own? And yet there you were, focused intently to every word said, laughing alongside the rest at what he could only deem as horrible jokes.

How was it that he barely heard you laugh like this?

At most, all he had ever gotten was the suppressed sound of a giggle over the phone.

“And that was how I got this.” Mr. Morgan ended his recount there, pointing to a small scar that ran downwards from the upper right of his lip, to just centre of his chin. The action had the others leaning in closer, inspecting with curious eyes. It had you doing so as well, while Victor remained where he was, taking a sip from his glass of rich, red wine.

“It’s barely visible now.” You commented, “If you don’t mind me saying, I think it actually adds to your charm, Mr. Morgan.”

Victor immediately shifted his attention to the back of your head, brows furrowed together in surprise. Had he heard you right?

The man of subject merely grinned in response, a twinkle in his look that nearly had Victor scoffing. “Please, how many times have I told you that you can call me Alex. It’s not like you’ve only just met me to still be addressing me as ‘mister’.”

“Not like you two are so close for you to be on a first-name basis, either.” With words muttered from behind the glass he had held close to his lips, a hint of a scowl appeared just before he took another long sip. The dryness of the fermented drink was somewhat soothing, acting as a momentary distraction for him as he caught your gaze. Seemingly, his response was unheard of by the company, with the exception of you, who had looked at him with curiosity and confusion.

He said nothing and just shrugged, having Mrs. de Rochefort opening a new topic.

“That actually reminds me, Sunny-Side Corporation will be holding a charity ball next month. They’ve decided that the theme will be masquerade,” A pause, “Or was it fairy tale, I’m not sure. Of course everyone will be getting official invitations soon, just letting you all know in advance.”

“So… dancing?” Mr. Morgan asked.

“Yes, Alexander. Dancing.”

And that brought in another question for you not a second too soon, “How do you feel about dancing?”

You blinked several times, and Victor allowed himself that moment to quirk the corner of his lips upwards, reminiscing of the time when he had taught you how to dance, only to actually have been given the chance to hold you close later that night. Needless to say, he was quite proud of you, having had left him in awe at how fast you had learnt within an afternoon.

“I can’t exactly say that I’m fond of it…” You started with a shy smile, “I took lessons when I was younger, but that was as far as I got.”

Did you just forget how often you lost your footing and stepped on his toes multiple times? Speechless as he was, the CEO clenched his jaw at that thought.

“I see,” Mr. Morgan nodded his head, his supposed fascinated expression barely faltering, “Would you still honour me a dance tonight, however?”

Well, somebody was certainly exuding confidence.

Before you could answer, Victor took a step closer next to you and spoke with his words laced with humour, “I’m not sure whether that would be a good idea; last time I danced with her, my feet had bruises for days.”

You were openly gaping at him, supposedly shocked at how he had exposed you like that. But with no apology in mind, he simply wrapped an arm around your waist and stood close shamelessly; as if he had every single right to be there.

“Oh, Victor, she can’t be worse than my wife!” Exclaimed an elderly looking man, whose wife stood beside him, slapping his arm right after the comment, “When I had my first dance with Elaine, I just had to come into terms with the fact that she wasn’t perfect.”

“Harold!”

“Now, now, even when you stepped on all of my toes back then, I still saw you as the most beautiful woman in the room.”

Amidst the soft feeling that had taken over the group, a certain individual cleared his throat, “I hold no expectations, and if bruised feet is the consequence, it’s a sacrifice I’m willing to make.” A wink.

_Is he blind?  
Or is he stupid?_

Victor masked his annoyance with a form of professional charm, smile lines deepening as he said, “Then again, it is your feet that you’re risking. Don’t say that I didn’t warn you.” With that, he finished the rest of his wine and stepped away from you, letting his arm drop down to his side in reluctance, “Now if you may excuse me, I think another drink is to be had.”

Even footsteps, even breathing, he made his way through the crowd for the open bar on the other side. He could have gotten a glass off from one of the waiters, could have continued on with the conversation, but he was truly in need of cognac. After all, considering just what he had undergone, he deserved that much, didn’t he?

You in that satin dress of yours, revealing the skin of your back to everyone who dared to catch a glimpse. There were also the heels and the slit in the skirt, which had been threateningly high as it parted the fabric when you strode to the car earlier that night. And whoever decided that it was a good idea for your hair to have been styled in such an updo… well, they deserved praise. With your neck exposed to him in such a way, and the necklace complimenting your complexion, it took Victor quite a bit to keep himself from doing something that was certainly not quite… him.

Just thinking about it then made him want to go back and drag you away.

What a foolish, foolish thought.

Composure was key, although that Morgan certainly needed to shut up.

Him and his pride in fighting a bear single-handedly, what a joke. And to think that the man had the audacity to look at you as a woman he was to take home at the end of the event, Victor scoffed and rolled his eyes. He knew that you would never consider such an idea; was even more sure that you were oblivious to the aspect.

But what if you weren’t?

That possibility had Victor slowing down, stopping just in front of the bar with a crease between his brows. He sighed, rolling his neck into comfort as he suddenly felt a pinch somewhere in between. If you were truly considering the idea, then perhaps you were much dumber than he imagined. Out of all men, why would you have entertained the notion of going home with one who had to exaggerate his story just to get your attention and interest? However, even though Victor could not deny him of his ability to swoon you with compliments and words that were thick with flirtation, Victor had seen better.

“What would you like, sir?” A bartender stood on the other side, pulling him out of his thoughts.

“Hennessy, please.”

“Didn’t you say that you were sticking to wine tonight?” A soft voice from behind, and he had to suppress a shiver being sent down his spine. He knew exactly who it belonged to without having to see.

He called the owner more than he should.

“The wine’s good, it’s just not going to help me last through the night with all these people here.” was his response as he fixed his cuff-links.

You took the space beside him, and he felt you watch him as you usually did in periods of silence.

“What are you doing here? I thought you were going to go dance with… what’s-his-face.”

“When did I say that I was going to dance with Alex?”

He finally brought himself to turn around and leaned back against the bar with crossed arms, amusement lacing his words as he peered at you, “Alex? So you are on first-name basis. You two got close awfully fast.”

He observed the way you huffed, a tinge of redness making their way to the apples of your cheeks. _Heh, cute_ , he contemplated, smiling inwardly as he frequently did whenever you showed such a reaction. It was one of the few reasons as to why he enjoyed teasing you, poking at you with fun until that expression of annoyance or embarrassment made its way to the surface. He deemed it as a reward throughout the day-- that and hearing your voice through the phone.

Strange how he didn’t know when or how it began, but he took pleasure in basking in your presence in one way or another. Not that he was ever going to admit that, of course.

He then heard you say something under your breath, though failed to make out the words. And just when he was about to ask for clarification, you perked up with what he assumed as realisation. What ran through your head to have had you look at him like that? Uncertainty was what went through his, and it had written itself all over his profile as he waited for you to speak.

“Are you jealous, Victor?”

Silence.

The bartender returned with his glass of cognac, which had been placed behind him with the quiet words of, “Here you go, sir.”

Was he jealous?

No.

Absolutely not.

“Did you just ask me if I was jealous?”

You nodded.

“Really?”

Another nod.

He couldn’t believe it, “Where in the world did you get that idea? Me? Jealous? When have you ever seen me jealous-- better yet, when have I ever gotten jealous over someone so… so…”

“So?”

“So insignificant.”

You gasped, “Victor! That’s the CEO of Waterworks Inc. you’re talking about!”

“Doesn’t matter,” He glared at you as he reached back for his drink, needing it more then than ever, “I just don’t understand how you even got that idea. Honestly… me… jealous. What a joke. Probably a bigger joke than he is.”

“I don’t know… that’s definitely sounding like jealousy to me.”

Mouth agape, Victor stared at you in disbelief. Were you really that convinced of the possibility that he was envious of a man whom you had given a majority of your attention to since the start of the night? Who had made you chortle with jokes that a five-year-old could have delivered better? Who was on the receiving end of your dimples and modest reactions? Who openly looked at you with an attraction with every passing second, having Victor feel the need to step in front of you just to shield you from his view, because who was he to do so? It didn’t matter whether he was the CEO of a known company, or whether he was just another simple-minded man, that dimwit was an idiot through and through and you certainly deserved better than him.

But really, jealous?

“I don’t get jealous.” He said once he got his mind back on track, “Besides, there’s no reason to be jealous.”

Victor was most definitely **not** jealous.

“Exactly, there’s no reason to be jealous.” You said.

“Glad we’re on the same page, then.”

“Maybe I’ll actually take him up on his offer.”

And there it was, a twitch of his finger, “Really now? Did he offer to take you home?”

It was your turn to get flustered, “No! His offer to dance.”

The man released a simple ‘oh’, hollow in its sound. Why he had thought of anything else was unknown to him. Though to see you so affected by a suggestion, it certainly had Victor wonder as to why that was. Did you like the idea; better yet, were you remotely interested in the concept? Victor drank from his glass, hiding his wandering and pondering musings, as bothered as they made him be.

He cleared his throat, setting the glass back down onto the bar, “Do you want to dance with him?”

“It certainly wouldn’t hurt if I did.”

“It might hurt him if you do.” As sharp as always his tongue had been, the cold demeanor enveloping his figure as he straightened his posture, “He ought to be careful if you were to dance with him. Worse, you might embarrass him.”

“I don’t remember hurting you when we danced together.” You retorted.

So you did remember it, “You stepped on me multiple times when I was teaching you.”

“That was practice…! There’s a difference!”

Gradually turning to face you, Victor towered over you in the entirety of his 6’ height.

“Dance with me.”

That got you speechless, if your expression was anything to go by; mouth agape, brows knitted together in confusion. “What?”

“If you want to dance that badly, then dance with me.” He found himself starting to sound exasperated, even had to fight the urge to run his fingers through his own styled hair, which had been slicked back for the event. When no answer was heard, however, he released a sigh and waved his hand before you dismissively, “Never mind. Forget I said anything. This is stupid.”

“No, stop,” Your own frustrations were starting to make themselves known, “You’re the one who told me to come here tonight with you, and now you’re getting mad at me for what? Wanting to dance?”

“No, you idiot,” Having his voice dangerously low in irritation, he could feel the heat spreading throughout his being. He stared down at you, failing to hide the fact that he was, indeed, troubled. As expected, you never failed to rile him up for whatever reason, and it was a skill that he had solely associated with you; he didn’t even understand how it came to be. “I’m getting mad at you for being so oblivious to that man’s intentions. Did you not see the way he was looking at you? Or even how he was talking to you? I knew you were dense, but I didn’t think that you’d be this dense.

He was practically brimming with pleasure at having all of your attention to him. And you were entertaining the possibility!”

“Well, I’m sorry, Victor, I didn’t know that there was anything wrong with that.” Pure sarcasm, that was a first.

“Are you being sarcastic with me right now?”

“I wouldn’t have to be if you weren’t being so unfair.” That was your final remark, glaring at him indignantly. He understood then that you were tired of the argument, all in the midst of taking note of just how tempting your lips had looked.You were so close yet so far, though he could have leaned in right there and then, an act so selfish that would have rewarded him with a taste.

“Unfair?” He questioned after a long while of silence; a mere husky whisper, “Is that what you really think of me?”

He caught you glancing down at his own mouth, saw the way you attempted to stifle a shiver. He really could have just stolen a kiss, feed his own curiosity and answer the one thing he had always wanted to know.

But you averted your gaze, turning your head away from his. There you were, his timid flower that grasped at his heart unknowingly so. You stepped back away from his space, your fingers fiddling with the pendant of your necklace, blushing through and through. He saw it, the thought that crossed your mind.

Did you finally realise or had your innocence cracked?

Taking your hand into his, Victor slowly brought it to his lips, only to drop a kiss on your inner wrist. He lingered there as time around you came to a halt, stillness falling upon those in the ballroom. Everyone and everything froze. He had stopped time again; had stopped it for you, or perhaps for him, he couldn’t say. Either way, you were there with him and that was all that mattered.

“Victor---” You whispered his name, wavering as he kept his eyes on you.

“I don’t understand how you want another man to look at you when I’m right here.” Breathing against your skin, he revelled in the warmth that he soon felt when your hand cupped his face, his palm covering the back of your hand as your thumb caressing the soft space just below his eyes.

“Do you really not see me?” There was an indescribable tone of hurt in those words, a pain spreading throughout the confines of his chest. It was a feeling that he had ignored many times before, deeming it as a distraction to his work, priorities, and everything that made him. But with each moment spent with you, he knew that it was inevitable. No matter how many women came his way, even with a couple undeniably throwing themselves at him in hopes to be The One, none of them could have had ever compared to the woman he saw you as. He may have called you dumb, stupid, or even idiotic when mistakes occurred, although there was always something so admirable about you that he simply…

Fell for.

Perhaps he was the stupid one, allowing for his feelings to grow into something so intangible that he, himself, could not even put words to, nor perceive its beginnings.

“Of course I see you,” He heard you say, nearly as soft as his own question had been, “I just… I just didn’t know whether you actually see _me_.”

And that had hit him.

You really were dense, weren’t you?

“How many times have I told you not to worry because I’m here? I even promised to be there with you if doomsday were to come, right? All those things that I’ve told you, the times you came to me, did you really believe that I would have gone out of my way for others, as well?” A sigh, “Do you not understand how… significant you are to me?”

Again, you were silent and he just knew. He watched you think, only to lose himself in the hues of your eyes; so bright and so deep, as open as a book. He read you in the ways he knew how, took note of your slow breaths, how you continued to return his stare even though you were wracking that beautiful head of yours for all that he had referred to. They were bits and pieces, things that he had only done to you, revealed to you, and you alone. And through everything, you had managed to engrain yourself in the depths of his heart, right until it began to call for you at its own will. You became an unneeded addiction, and although he hated to admit it, he had found himself yearning for you more often than he really should have.

You had bewitched him in more ways than one, yet you were so unaware of your own doing that it was torturous. But unexpectedly, you pulled him down and met him halfway, closing the gap.

You tasted as exquisite as he imagined, and perhaps even more, for everything that you were-- your scent, your warmth, your being-- it engulfed him.

Victor had caught your lips between his teeth, tugged on them kiss after kiss, until they parted, giving him the opportunity to explore you as much as he could. He had pulled you flush against him, his hand spanning the nape of your neck, while the other rested at the small of your back. He was on the verge of breaking, of losing himself in you as he had in his dreams. He wanted to.

However, you pulled back sooner than he would have liked, heaving and red, left him to needing more. Sudden abandonment was what he felt between shared breaths, his forehead resting on yours as he gathered his thoughts. What had you done to him?


End file.
